


Paper Planes

by DaisytheDoodleDog



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Cas wants to fly, Destiel! - Freeform, Fluff, Flying, Friends to Lovers, From kids to adults, M/M, Supernatural AU - Freeform, a story to help cope with season 15, domestic lifestyles, help me destiel has taken over, just a cute story, messages, paper airplanes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-17 09:46:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20618990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisytheDoodleDog/pseuds/DaisytheDoodleDog
Summary: Castiel has always wanted to fly. Everyday he throws a paper airplane off his balcony just to see how far it'll soar above the busy New York City traffic. When one of his planes comes crashing to the ground, a little boy walking on the streets below comes across it and starts a lifelong friendship several stories apart. That is, until Cas finally gets a paper airplane back. A fluffy Destiel story!





	Paper Planes

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo! I hope you enjoy this, but before you read it, it is very important you know the background to this story.
> 
> In my creative writing class we had a prompt to write a short story using 9/11 as our inspiration. To those who do not live in the U.S or may not know about 9/11 it was the terrorist attack on the twin towers in NYC and pentagon in Washington D.C. Thousands of people died and while the even was horrific, there was also a lot of good that came from it. The heroes that save hundreds, the service dogs who searched for the missing at ground zero, and the rise of unification of our nation and other nations who grieved with us around the world. This short story was created from that good. 
> 
> Now my original ending would have been much different, but I felt that we shouldn't think of 9/11, but 9/12 which is why this story is ending the way that it does, with no apparent connection to the event. If you would like to see the original ending that does include the events of 9/11 ( I won't spoil if it was happy or not) please let me know and I am more than happy to post it. This story was an assignment, just keep that in mind, but I turned it into a fanfiction like I do with everything else. Please enjoy and leave some comments, I do love them so much! 
> 
> Thank you!

**Cas's P.O.V**

I’ve always wanted to fly. 

And I was always fascinated with planes, even as a small child, I collected models and spent my lonesome hours delicately folding paper to drop from my balcony and watch them soar across the buzzing traffic, completely dependent on the steamy heat of New York summers. And I’d smile as it lost it’s drift and plunged to its little death to be lost under the wheels of taxis, or crumbled on the sidewalk where nobody stopped to wonder about the little paper airplane or the little boy who stood over the railing to see where it went.

From the comfort and security of the apartment, overlooking the heart of the city with the big Macy’s Thanksgiving parade only a block away, I never got the chance to fly. 

My father did, all over the world. Looking back, I saw more pictures of him then I saw of the real him. He’d walk in the door, fill my arms with exotic presents from around the world. My mother would kiss his cheek and spend the evening talking, using words far beyond my comprehension. I was too little to talk politics, or economics, and all I really wanted was to show my dad my ever growing plane model collection. He’d ruffle my hair and smile at me, calling me champ and ask about school. I’d answer and patiently await for him to ask about my planes, but the question never came, so I stopped expecting the answer. Then he’d pack a heavy black trunk and leave. 

One particular day, a generic summer morning with no distinct details, I tossed my plane out into the city watching it immediately plunder towards the earth. I gasped, honestly irritated that my hard work had not given me the results that my little heart hoped for. It smashed into a fire hydrant and sat on the sidewalk, sweeping underneath busy feet. I stared at it with an empty expression and almost turned to make another one. I’m not sure why I kept staring at it as if it would magically fly across the sky like a fighter plane. 

But then a little hand picked up the airplane. I faltered and leaned far over the railing, dipping my head down to the street below.

“Hey! I got your plane!” A little boy shouted. He must’ve been my age, with wild blond hair that blew in every which direction. He had a toothy grin, his right front tooth missing and maybe more, but I was too far to tell. He fiddled with the paper plane and tried to shoot it forward back to me, but it swiftly fell to his feet. He scrunched his face up in frustration.

“That’s okay! I can make more!” I shouted back over the incessant honking of a city bus. The boy threw me a thumbs up, before taking off into the crowd by himself, carrying the plane with him. 

The next day, at exactly 10:25, roughly the same time as the day before I threw another round of panes off the balcony. The first two almost reached the building across the street, the second one setting a record for how far it went. I celebrated, cheering and giggling in that childish, eight year-old manner and tossed a third one. A sharp breeze caught the front tip sending it back towards me and fluttering to the ground. I looked down, but it was already in someone’s hands.

“You gotta get better at flying these planes!” He cried out. He smirked and unfolded and folded the paper along its creases again.

“I fly them good! My last one almost hit the building!” I stuck my tongue out at him, a very offensive gesture for someone who was eight. I hastily threw together another plane, while the boy watched from below, chin raised high and eyes full of curiosity. I aimed the point of the plane, paused for the breeze to catch just right and released it. The plane soared across the traffic, gliding and bumping along until it gave up and fell to its death and crushed by traffic on the other side of the road. I smiled and puffed out my chest proudly. “See?!” The boy rolled his eyes, waved goodbye and ran off into the crowd his lime green jacket having a hard time blending with the crowd.

The next week of summer went by like this. Everyday at the same time the boy would appear and I would toss an airplane and he’d try his hardest to catch it, ignoring the honking drivers, cursing bikers, and scolding adults that passed by as he shoved them to the side. It was the tenth day did I finally come up with the brilliant idea of writing on the paper. He had been waiting impatiently for me to throw the plane while I scribbled the first question that came to mind. _ What is your name? -Cas _. I scrunched up my nose in concentration and threw the plane to dive towards the boy. He caught it swiftly and unfolded the plane, absorbing each word with a massive grin. I pulled a chair up to the railing and to wait for his reply. He looked back up at me and waved.

“Hiya Cas! I’m Dean!” 

“Hi Dean!” I shouted from the balcony. And thus began our friendship.

It lasted all summer, We’d ask each other questions on paper and shout a reply, and when school began, the planes didn’t stop, we would postpone them until the weekends and everyday without fail, he’d show, and without fail, I’d throw an airplane.

Mind you, this went on for _ years _.

Then one day, a fresh sixteen year old who still shot paper airplanes made from algebra homework and French quizzes into the street, _ received _ a plane. It was fairly crumpled by the time it reached the edge of the railing, dirty from the multiple times it failed to fly. Curious, I unfolded it delicately and read the note scribbled onto it. _ Apartment #? _ I faltered, scanned the crowd below and found Dean giving the thumbs up, hair flopping in his face. I smiled and threw him the answer.

Not two minutes later did an aggressive thump on my door occur. I sprinted to the entryway and tossed open the door. Standing there, panting and clenching the airplane was Dean, and for the first time, I was looking _ up _ at him.

“Hiya Cas.” I grinned.

“Hey.” We stared at each other for a while, the moment surreal, that for the first time in eight year, we were standing face to face. It was truly the oddest situation.

“You gonna let me in, or did I come all this way to throw airplanes with you for nothing?” 

**Author's Note:**

> This is only chapter 1 out of 2, I will post the next chapter soon with the ending! Hope you enjoyed! Until next time,
> 
> -Daisy


End file.
